


Slow Night

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Challenge Response, Episode Related, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-13
Updated: 2007-09-13
Packaged: 2019-02-05 18:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12799734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: Spoilers for SGA: Coup d'EtatLorne does some reflection while confined by the Genii.  Pairing Lorne/Dr. Lindsay(Coup d'Etat)Written for 100_situations/prompt: think





	Slow Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

  
Author's notes: The character Dr. Lindsay is the one appearing in SG-1: Origins and SGA: Coup D’Etat.

* * *

Three nights ago, she was lying back on a mountain of pillows, knees bent, laptop resting across her legs when he’d managed to break away, finally getting to her quarters. Lorne had crawled onto her bed, folding the computer closed and setting it on a low table, carefully, because she could get really pissy about her laptop. He’d been on the receiving end of that pique once and never intended to be again. 

 

She’d had a box of those amazing cookies her Mom, who worked at the Pentagon and managed to circumnavigate red tape and Security Clearances, sent by way of the Daedalus every trip. A glass of the blood red Anthosian version of wine sat by the bed. It was the really good stuff they made, because the Anthosians loved her, she was a botanist who created hybrid blueberry trees for them that tripled their fruit harvest and fava beans that grew faster and thicker than anything they’d ever seen. He took a cookie from her hand and finished it, licking the crumbs from between her breasts where some had fallen.

 

He loved her, too, he’d thought casually, picking up the cup and draining it without her protesting. Not in love, but maybe, he’d thought, he loved her none the less. She shared with him, shared the blueberries the Anthosians sent, the wine they smuggled to her despite Weir’s reticence, even her Mom’s strawberry cheesecake and brownie cookies. But mostly she shared her fit, tanned body. And she didn’t scowl if he talked with the new engineer from Sweden over lunch; she knew he was a flirt, but he was smart and discreet and hers was the only room he slipped into at night. To do otherwise would have been bad for morale.

 

He’d come in keyed up from a mission gone bad and the debriefing had gone on for far too long and not particularly successfully. He’d waited it out until he could escape and then found her. She’d wrapped him in long legs and long arms until he was exhausted enough to sleep.

 

Some nights they’d fuck long and slow, like that night, gently making each other come until they’d slept, exhausted, until Atlantis’ dawn. Other nights they fucked fast and furious. Sometimes he’d tease her, bringing her to the brink of orgasm over and over, each time pulling back and leaving her wanting. Sometimes he’d tease her too far and she’d become a hellion, fighting back and riding him hard, taking her pleasure rough and forcefully. 

 

Those were the nights he liked best. But the other nights…those were good, too. Incredible.

 

Sitting in the Genii prison cell he thought about a lot of things, thought of home, of getting out, his parents…not the least of those things was her…making love to her again, sleeping the night through curled into her…those damn cookies. He wondered if futures were made of stuff like that, like those thoughts, or if only ‘nows’ were. 

 

If he got back, no, when he got back, it was going to be a slow night.


End file.
